<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Wrap Me In Gold by chaircat</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26873308">Wrap Me In Gold</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaircat/pseuds/chaircat'>chaircat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hannibal (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Crime Scenes, Canon-Typical Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Masturbation, Obsession at first sight, Obsessive Behavior, Stalking, Texting, Vampire Will Graham, Vampires</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:13:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,082</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26873308</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaircat/pseuds/chaircat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham is a centuries old vampire who is tired of the monotony of everyday life. One night, he discovers the body of a woman turned into the most beautiful of creations. He becomes obsessed with the work's creator and wants nothing more than to worship at the man's feet.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>164</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I’m hoping for this to have more chapters and I’ve already written more, but I’m keeping this as a one-shot for now in case I don’t finish another chapter. </p>
<p>Please mind the tags!</p>
<p>Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Like most evenings, Will found himself roaming the streets of Baltimore. He had found a victim earlier in the night to feed upon and had quenched his thirst quickly. The city was bigger than his current home in Wolf Trap and he preferred the distance from where he was staying when searching for victims anyway. After indulging himself, he enjoyed meandering the alleyways and seeing the scourge of the city go about their business under what they felt was the protection of the darkness. Little did they know what that darkness was hiding.</p><p>He made his way through the alleys and down the back streets with no other purpose than to see what he could find. Drug deals, secret trysts, sanctuaries for the less than fortunate. He witnessed them all with disinterest. It was always the same in every city in every country in every period of time. The same acts from anonymous faces. Some nights he would revel in the debauchery, but tonight he was restless. He wanted something new, something to shake things up. He’d been feeling less than enthusiastic lately and found himself searching the streets far more often, even when he wasn’t feeding, in the hopes of finding something worthwhile. He didn’t care what, so long as it tore a hole in the monotony.</p><p>The distinct sound of human impact pulled him from his mindless wanderings and grabbed his attention. He stopped and pinpointed the source of the sound. It seemed to come from several streets over. The noise sounded a few more times accompanied by the quiet scratch of tearing flesh. It was too quiet for a human to hear, but his enhanced senses recognized them instantly. Intrigued, he decided to climb the nearest fire escape and hoist himself silently to the roof of the building, in hopes of having a better vantage point. He crept his way along the roofs, quietly making his way closer to the sounds until it was right below him. Crouching to hide his body behind the ledge, he peered over the side and took in the scene below, unneeded breath rushing past his lips in a sharp inhale.</p><p>Thin golden wire zigzagged across the alley, suspending a naked woman’s body. The wire closest to her was worked and molded to form the shape of jagged golden wings that appeared as though they’d eviscerate anyone who dared lay a hand on them. The wire wrapped around the woman’s head in a tight crown, blood pouring down beneath them in a crimson veil. One arm was extended towards the heavens, a relaxed hand reaching for something or someone. The other arm was raised to her chest and in her palm she cradled her wire wrapped heart. The rest of her body was wrapped in the same wire, blood rising from where it touched her skin, but it was wrapped so delicately and carefully that it seemed reverent and elegant. The most striking part, however, was the woman’s expression. She seemed both at peace and longing, head tilted back to gaze into the heavens, waiting to be taken into the next world, her heart presented as though for payment of passage. Her eyes seemed to see nothing and everything all at once, crimson tears caught in her eyelashes, a faint smile touching her blood stained lips.</p><p>It was beautiful.</p><p>Something stirred in Will, emotions he barely remembered existed. He felt it well up in his chest and behind his face and wondered, bemused, whether he was going to cry. He couldn’t remember the last time he had done so. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt anything stronger than a passing satisfaction at a filling feeding, or perhaps faint amusement at the antics of humanity.</p><p>This was something different. This was something more</p><p>He felt connection. Connection to this dead woman, this corpse, who longed for answers and acceptance, for an answer from the gods, who wanted change and ascension of the most magnificent sort. He felt connection through the blood that slid down her body and painted her. Blood connected them all. It was life giving and enhancing, it flowed through all of them, human and immortal, and it was what raised him from the dirt all those centuries ago.</p><p>Will tore his eyes from the masterpiece at the rustling of clothes and noticed the man for the first time. He stood before the scene and seemed to take it in, bask in it. He wore a comical suit made of plastic, protecting the expensive clothes beneath. In his hand, he held the remains of wire and it was then that Will realized that this was the artist, reveling in his work. Will clenched his fists tightly, feeling the blood well up as his nails tore holes in his palms, desperately trying to keep his position and not jump down to the man. </p><p>The artist, oblivious to Will’s presence and struggle, took a step forward and caught a drop of blood that tried to fall from the edge of one of the wings. Will watched, transfixed, as he brought the hand to his mouth and flicked his tongue out, tasting. He closed his eyes as blood filled his own mouth, his sharp canines slicing the edges of his tongue to shreds as he attempted to smother his groan. The artist continued to stare at his creation for a few moments longer, his head turning slightly as he observed every piece of it, searching for flaws that didn’t exist. He looked to the face for several long moments and then tilted his head back, as though to stare at whatever the dead woman beheld in her gaze. The movement brought his face, for the first time, into view and Will felt his heart stop.</p><p>He had heard people, human and otherwise, go on at length about love at first sight and mates and soulmates and other such drivel, but never had he given it much thought. It was obviously just a mixture of attraction and wishful thinking. Lonely, naive souls desperate to find their “other half”. It was all nonsense.</p><p>Whatever this was, however, was not nonsense.</p><p>He had an old face. Not aged, but one that seemed ancient, eternal, as though carved from stone. If he had been, he was sure the statue would have been worshipped as a god, a long lost brother of Hades, perhaps. Darkness poured through him, pooling in his shining eyes, the color of dried blood, visible to only Will’s enhanced gaze in the night. It was cloudy, as though the goddess Selene herself wished to hide her face from the searching eyes of the woman and her maker. The alluring man’s features were carved harshly, his eyes deep set, mouth in a permanent pout. Streaks of silver shot through his light hair, styled perfectly against his head. He yearned to see what it looked like when those stone features came to life and that meticulous hair came free and flew around his head wildly. This man was made for people to worship at his feet. Will wanted to do nothing more.</p><p>He had felt disconnected from everyone and everything for so long, he often forgot he was ever a person. He forgot that he had once had feelings, deep and powerful ones. That he had once felt passion. What this man had done, what his very presence instilled in him, did more to make him feel alive than anything in the last century. He felt a pull to him, stronger than the blood around him, stronger than the most burning thirst he’d ever felt. He wanted to know this man. He wanted to be known in return.</p><p>After what felt like an eternity even to him, the man looked away and gathered his belongings that Will only just noticed, transfixed as he had been. He had a duffel bag and an unusually wide case that had a vaguely familiar shape. Will only spared them a glance and instead focused on the artist’s graceful movements as he gathered them and confidently exited the alleyway. Will watched him go, torn between following and taking in more of the artwork.</p><p>Making his decision, Will darted to the edge of the building and noted the direction the man walked, then turned and grabbed a pipe that ran the length of the building and quickly eased himself down to the alley below.</p><p>Looking down on the creation was striking, but witnessing it before him, the woman elevated several feet from the ground? It was life changing. No one could look upon this masterpiece and see it as anything but magnificent. As the clouds moved, wisps of moonlight caught on the wire and gleamed, faint breezes fluttering her dark hair and occasionally catching the shine. Will inhaled deeply, searching through the scent of blood and death and was able to catch something else, something earthy and musky and rich. Despite the urban landscape, it brought to mind the image of pine trees. He also caught a slightly spicy scent, like thyme. It blended together with the mouth wateringly fresh scent of wild orange. It set his body alight.</p><p>Will crouched and dipped his fingers in the puddle of blood beneath the body and brought them to his lips. He thought of the mysterious man as he sucked them into his mouth, moaning huskily as he imagined they were the fingers of the artist. He wasn’t able to see them well through the gloves. Would they be calloused from his work or smooth and soft? Would he caress Will’s tongue, gently exploring his mouth, or would he shove them in roughly, nails scratching at his palate and seeing how far he could take them? He sincerely hoped for the latter and took his fingers deeper, eyes closing briefly in pleasure, before yanking them away and wiping them off on his dark jeans, trying to get a hold of himself. He was usually much more in control, few things able to break his iron grip on his actions. He hadn’t even spoken to the man and he was already taken. That fact both concerned and excited him.</p><p>He carefully stepped under the wires and peered at the back of the creation and once again had to stifle a groan, uncharacteristically stumbling in awe. While the front of the woman appeared nearly unharmed apart from the cuts from the wires, the back of her was bared open, the base of the golden wings coiled tightly around her spine and her ribs, several of which appeared to be missing. At a closer look, Will realized the woman’s lungs were also missing and thought back to the case the man carried. Its familiar shape. A cooler, he realized with a surprised jolt. His mouth went dry and he reached down a hand and palmed his aching erection in his jeans. He was so close already, the smell of blood and death and metal and him dominating his senses. He took a gasping breath and then steeled himself, suddenly filled with determination.</p><p>He had to find him.</p><p> </p><p>Climbing back up to the roof, Will was able to find his artist fairly quickly, the man having only made it a few blocks from the scene. He watched him climb into a black bentley, a bold choice in his opinion, though the area appeared a bit more affluent than usual so it didn’t stand out too badly. He raced along the rooftops, leaping from building to building with barely a thought in his mind apart from staying with his artist. Together they made their way in a dizzying journey around the city, presumably an attempt to ward off suspicion and anyone who might be following. Fortunately, it did little to shake off a determined vampire.</p><p>Eventually they arrived in the wealthiest part of the city and parked in front of a large three story stone building with columns in front of the entryway and large windows. Will stood in the bushes across the street and watched his artist leave his car, no longer wearing his plastic suit (when did he have time to change it?), and walk into what he assumed was his home. He gave it a few minutes, bouncing his leg impatiently, before he rose from his hiding place and walked to the looming house, cut around the side, avoided the patio doors that appeared to lead to a dining room, and scaled a tree in the yard which offered him the perfect view of a second story window. He settled into the tree, making sure he was suitably hidden amongst its branches and foliage, and remained there, waiting for any sign of movement or life from the home.</p><p>As he waited, he thought about his artist.</p><p>Was this his first masterpiece? Had he created before? Will had no interest in human news and didn’t have any friends to speak of, so he wouldn’t have known if there was someone doing things like this. If he had worked before, Will would be almost sorry for his lack of attention. His artist deserved to be witnessed by every eye on this Earth.</p><p>The pull he felt to the man intrigued him and he wondered whether it was because of his creation or if it was something else entirely. Would his artist be boring and clash with his personality? He couldn’t imagine so. Someone who was able to create something like he had done tonight had to be intelligent and well versed in the arts, someone who knew true beauty when he saw it, someone who had an eye for composition. He wondered if he made more traditional art, painting or sketching, perhaps sculpting? He was certain everything his artist touched became a masterpiece.</p><p>He also wondered who the woman was. What had she done to deserve such a fate? Was she someone lovely and beautiful to his artist and he wished to preserve that beauty for the world to see, or was she someone he loathed and wanted to shape into something better, something the world would benefit from while also wiping it of her undesirable life? He felt a surge of jealousy. That woman, whoever she was, certainly didn’t deserve the touch of his artist’s hands, to be molded to his fantastic whim, to be tasted for his pleasure. She surely wouldn’t appreciate the beauty of his actions. Not the way Will would.</p><p>He closed his eyes and tried to imagine it. His artist running his hands and eyes over his body, trying to decide the best way to elevate him. Will ran his own hands over his chest in an echo of his phantom touch. He imagined the man finding the perfect spot, deciding on his abdomen, slicing into it with grace and a steady hand. He groaned, turning his face into the bark of the tree, letting it scratch against his face. He palmed himself through his jeans as he imagined the blood gushing from his belly. In the fantasy, he used the remainder of his fading strength to grip his artist’s silver streaked hair and pull, bringing his face to the wound. In the tree, he frantically opened his pants and pulled himself free, stroking his aching cock desperately as he imagined a tongue dipping into the wound, poking inside. With a few firm strokes and a bite through his tongue, he came across the branch. He took a few steadying breaths and then leaned down and, after swallowing the blood from his now healed tongue, licked the salty white from the branch of the tree. Leaning back against the trunk of the tree, he tucked himself back into his pants. He was surprised at himself and wondered how far this infatuation would take him.</p><p>Just then he saw movement through the window and focused all of his attention on it. Through the gap in the curtains he could see his artist pull his tie off and begin unbuttoning his shirt, his suit jacket and waistcoat already having been removed. The man moved out of view before he could see more than a sliver of skin, wiry hair peeking through. Will’s fingers twitched, wanting to run his fingers through it. He was gone from view for awhile; when he returned, his hair was damp and hung loose in front of his face. He wore a towel around his waist and nothing else. Will only got a glance of him, but the image was burned into his mind.</p><p>It was that same image that he took home with him the next morning, after standing guard the rest of the night. It was that image that he saw behind his eyes when he laid down in his bed after taking care of his dogs. It was that image that followed him as he went about his day, keeping up the pretense of being a functioning member of society.</p><p>It was the image of the wire angel and his artist’s moonlit face, however, that filled his mind as he made his way back to Baltimore the next night, to that stone house, to that tree branch.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Watching stops being enough. Will needs more.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's official! We got a multi-chaptered fic! Woo! I'm gonna try my very best to finish it. Fell free to bully me to continue!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The nights passed like this for the next few months. Will would make his way to Baltimore, sometimes by car and sometimes he would be so wired that he’d run the entire way. He would wait until his artist was gone and would climb the now familiar tree where he’d settle and spend the majority of the night. He had never felt such peace before, this intimate closeness with another.</p>
<p>For a while, watching was enough. He would listen to the sounds of this man living his life, occasionally catching glimpses of him as he passed the window. More than once, Will felt the urge to climb through that window and explore the depths of his artist’s home. He wanted to run his fingers over every object and smother them in his scent. He wanted to press his face into the pillows on his bed and just breathe, leaving behind nothing but himself. He imagined his artist returning to the room and feeling that something was amiss. He was only human, however, so he surely wouldn’t be able to catch his scent. He would brush the feeling off and lay his head down on that pillow and Will’s scent would bleed into his, their essence melding together and becoming one.</p>
<p>It was always around this time that he would end his imaginings, flushed and worked up.</p>
<p>He didn’t touch himself after that first night. Not in the tree, anyway. The experience of witnessing this man was far too intimate and he didn’t want to miss a single detail. If he found himself gasping and writhing between his sheets when he returned home, that was another story.</p>
<p>Once every few weeks, his artist would leave his home dressed even more lavishly than usual. One such night, Will followed him to an intimate and elegant opera house, where Baltimore’s elite mingled. He took in the attention his artist garnered and an idea was planted.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After a few more months of watching and waiting and longing, he decided he wanted more.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Will had a great sum of money that he had acquired throughout his very long life. He wasn’t very interested in being wealthy or having any sort of luxurious lifestyle, but he had learned early in his life that money was an incredibly important thing in this world and had made sure he had a stash in case of emergencies. He dipped into that stash to purchase himself an opera ticket and an expensive, slim fit suit. He had considered getting a 3-piece suit, or at least a tailored one, in the hopes of grabbing the man’s attention, but he decided against it because he didn’t like wearing too many layers and he didn’t like the idea of standing around and being measured and poked and prodded and manipulated like a doll. Instead, he found a respectable dark navy blue suit in the 4 digit price range. It was very light and moved softly over his fingertips when he touched it. He probably should have gone with a black tux, but he wasn’t fond of the style and he had been told a long time ago by a kind peasant boy he’d toyed with for awhile that blue brought out his eyes and made them seem like endless oceans. The boy had never seen an ocean, though, so he wasn’t sure how accurate the statement was. Still, it had stuck with him and whenever he wanted to impress, he tried to go with the color. He paired the suit with a shirt a few shades lighter and deep black tie. He didn’t fuss with his hair too much, simply pushing it back from his face and using the slightest bit of product to keep it out of his eyes. He contemplated shaving his face but decided he preferred the way it made him seem slightly harsher, whereas a smooth face made him look childlike and soft. While that look was useful in some situations, he didn’t want to appear soft tonight. He did clean the beard up a bit, though, so it was more stubble and less unruly.</p>
<p>After slipping on a pair of centuries old cufflinks that had been a gift from some rich suitor he could no longer remember the slightest detail about and dabbing some cheap, slightly offensive aftershave he had lying around, he went downstairs and made sure his dogs were all taken care of and gave them each an ear ruffle and instructed them to behave. He slid on a new pair of black oxford shoes, pulled on a gray peacoat, and departed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The lounge of the opera house was filled with wealthy patrons milling about, most of them knowing each other, speaking in whispers about one another and putting on false pretenses of glamour and warmth. Elegant dresses flowed, expensive jewelry and accessories cast sparkling gimmers through the air, and the city’s elite performed for each other.</p>
<p>Will stood away from the rest, not quite in a corner (he didn’t want to be too obvious in his discomfort), but making no attempts to blend in with the rest. Occasionally someone would approach him and he would exchange a few friendly pleasantries, but for the most part he stood alone, pretending to sip from a flute of champagne. He stood apart in his blue suit, but not as much as he’d feared. He had received a few appreciative glances, several people eyeing him up and down before turning away with an inviting smile. While it may have been fun at some point to pretend, to weave through the crowd and charm the patrons, a sly look here, a flirtatious touch there, seducing whoever caught his fancy either taking them for his pleasure or leaving them bereft and wanting, he felt no urge for such a thing tonight. Tonight he had one goal.</p>
<p>He wanted to find his artist, to see him interact with the others, hear his voice, gauge his personality. He wanted to know how he kept up his façade of humanity, because surely he was something more. He wanted to see him delight in the performances of others. Would he get emotional during the opera, perhaps giving a smile and bobbing his head, or would the waves that crash over him leave him unaffected, a pillar unmoving and strong?</p>
<p>As though the thought of the ocean summoned the crashing waves, he was hit with a burst of air and that familiar scent he’d experienced that night and few times since, occasionally caught in his tree or from the entryway as he passed the house.</p>
<p>Pine, wild orange, and thyme.</p>
<p>He flicked his eyes towards the door, forcing himself to remain steady and outwardly calm, while inside his heart was pounding. Standing beside the door removing his overcoat was his artist, slick and put together as always. He wore a black velvet tux, his hair soft where it lay across his forehead. He looked regal and important, as though they’d all gathered simply to be in his presence. A waiter came by quickly to offer him a drink, which he gracefully accepted. He heard several groups of people around the room stop their conversations to take in the man, a few breaking off to go and accost him. Will made a point to keep his grip on his glass loose and relaxed so as not to shatter it in irritation. Who did these people think they were to deserve his artist’s attention?</p>
<p>The man took the attention in stride and Will was surprised to hear a warm, accented voice drift over to his ears. The accent was difficult to place, though he suspected it was Scandinavian. It reminded him of roaring waters and hidden devils and the feeling of blood rising to the surface. Will turned away and walked across the room to pretend to stare at a painting while he eavesdropped, desperate to have that voice wash over him for as long as possible. While making his way across the floor, the excited whispers surrounded him and he was able to catch a name.</p>
<p>Hannibal.</p>
<p>It suited him perfectly. Will could easily imagine dozens of thousands of soldiers following him into battle, thriving under his leadership. Will himself would gladly give his life in service to the man. He was destined for great things- was already achieving those things- so it was only reasonable to expect a name that connotated such.</p>
<p>He listened to his artist- Hannibal- intently and was unsurprised to find that he mingled flawlessly. He of course stood above the rest, magnificent and untouchable, but he was also incredibly polite and charming, able to weave through conversation topics with ease. He was intelligent and familiar with the arts and not a single topic passed by that he wasn’t able to contribute to in a meaningful way. Will was completely taken with him. Even if he hadn’t seen him that night, surrounded by beauty and untouchable in the moonlight, even if he hadn’t been following him for weeks, he would be completely infatuated. Hannibal knew how to work his way around a room and make every person he came into contact with feel noticed and special. Will was desperate to have that charm turned on him.</p>
<p>Just then, Hannibal turned from where he was assuring a small woman in a rhinestone covered dress that he would host a dinner party very soon and caught Will’s eye. Will was frozen in place, unable to even pretend to breathe, overwhelmed at having his artist’s eyes on him for the first time. Hannibal’s eyes held his, intrigue flashing across them. Will felt that same pull he’d experienced that first night and was about to finally allow it to pull him forward when the small woman put her hand on Hannibal’s elbow and pulled his attention back to her. Will clenched his teeth in frustration, furious at the audacity of that woman to break their connection, to lay her hands on what she had no right to touch. He went to take a step forward, determined to lay claim to what was his, when the lights flashed, signaling the performance was going to start shortly. He sighed, unused to such strong tests of his patience, and watched his artist smile and follow the rest of the crowd into the theater. He discarded his glass and followed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The show was a magnificent spectacle, incredibly similar to its performances throughout the centuries while also having its own modern and unique touches. He would have liked to appreciate it more. Unfortunately, it had nothing on the performance he had truly come here for.</p>
<p>Hannibal was neither smiling nor unaffected. He looked devastated. As the music swelled and released, so too did the tension in his body. At the height of emotion, his eyes shone as they filled, overflowing down his face. His lips parted as he took deep breaths, shining in the stage lights. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back as the orchestra crescendoed, chest rising swiftly. He appeared as a god in the thralls of ecstasy.</p>
<p>Will practically flew to the bathroom during intermission.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After the show was over, Will slowly followed the crowd back into the lounge, the intense emotions that poured from Hannibal still swimming around his brain. He paused beside another waiter and took a flute, barely aware of what was happening around him. He didn’t even notice his approach until he was only a few feet in front of him. He managed to keep his shock at being snuck up on by the very star of his thoughts, but just barely. His artist smiled at him politely and Will was lost. He stared into those eyes up close for the first time, noticing the flecks of gold and red that he hadn’t seen before. He started to open his mouth, not sure what he even planned to say, when a patron beside Hannibal that he hadn’t noticed before huffed.</p>
<p>“I believe this is what you’d call a black tie event,” he said with disdain, taking too large of a drink of champagne, his body reeking of it. It distressed Will that he had been so lost in Hannibal’s very presence that he hadn’t smelled him. He blamed it on the large number of people and abundance of alcohol surrounding him. Hannibal turned to the man and regarded him as though he were a pesky fly on the wall.</p>
<p>“I think you’ll find, Eustace, that the young man is indeed wearing a black tie. I cannot say the same for you, however.”</p>
<p>Will filled with warmth at the defense and watched with a smirk as the man- Eustace- became flustered and stuttered in offense before stomping off like a proud peacock with its feathers rumpled. Hannibal watched him go with an eyebrow raised before turning back to Will.</p>
<p>“A rather unfortunate acquaintance, I’m afraid. Pay no attention to his theatrics. They’re nowhere near as enjoyable as the Opera’s.” He smiled again and extended his hand toward Will. “Hannibal Lecter. I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting.”</p>
<p>Will took his artist’s hand in his own, delighted to find that it was smooth and soft, fingernails meticulously manicured, with a hidden strength in his grip. His skin was warm and Will found his whole body heating from the touch. He filed it away in his room of information on the man.</p>
<p>“Will Graham,” he finally answered, his hand lingering a second too long as he relished in the touch before finally letting it go. He hadn’t planned on approaching Hannibal and he’d never considered the man would approach him. He found himself for once nervous, unsure of what to say. He had no plan on how he wanted this to go. He was sure he would seem boring and inexperienced to the other man and that he’d lose interest and find someone else to talk with. However, he took Will’s reservedness in stride and moved on, amusement and curiosity in his voice.</p>
<p>“Have you been to the Opera before? I don’t think I would forget seeing a face like yours, let alone such an interesting choice in attire. You seem to have ruffled a few feathers.” Will chuckled as he saw Eustace vehemently complaining to a group that all shot pretentious glares his way. Hannibal’s words about his face floated around his head, however, and made him flustered, not sure of his intentions. It was a feeling he was incredibly unfamiliar with.</p>
<p>“Uh no, I haven’t. It’s not really my thing. I just grabbed the nicest suit I had in my closet and showed up. Didn’t think I’d stick out enough to do any ruffling.” He shrugged modestly and took a sip of his champagne. The taste didn’t really bother him and he could digest it, contrary to popular belief. It just wasn’t very flavorful. It was harmless but boring. Hannibal mirrored his movement and sipped at his drink, his tongue darting out to catch a drop on his lip. Will’s eyes followed the movement, mesmerized, and he reminded himself to breathe, not wanting to forget the human charade.</p>
<p>“If I may ask, what brought you here if it is not ‘your thing’?” He didn’t sound offended or accusing, just curious. Will delighted in the attention. He shrugged again and decided to be at least partially honest.</p>
<p>“I was bored and wanted to try something new. My house was starting to get a bit stuffy and there’s only so many fish to catch in the dead of winter.”</p>
<p>This seemed to peak Hannibal’s interest and he leaned forward slightly.</p>
<p>“You are a fisherman,” he asked, eyebrows raised. Will grinned.</p>
<p>“Is it the hair or the clothes that throw you off?”</p>
<p>Hannibal chuckled, his face lighting up and eyes crinkling. Will preened at his delight, pleased with making his artist laugh.</p>
<p>“Perhaps I was a bit thrown off,” he said, smile lingering. “You clean up very well. I find it difficult to imagine you anywhere less than extravagant.”</p>
<p>Will looked down into his drink. He was flirting, right? He had to be. He was showering Will with compliments about his appearance. It was completely unexpected. He looked back up at Hannibal with a grin.</p>
<p>“You have severely underestimated me, then. This is the most I’ve dressed up in years. I can typically be found either in the lake, tending to my dogs, or covered in grease while working on engines.” He decided to leave out the covered in blood bit, though he didn’t imagine Hannibal would be disappointed to hear it.</p>
<p>“Ah, a mechanic as well,” Hannibal replied, a sparkle of mischief in his eyes. “Perhaps it is the engine oil I smell on you rather than a truly unfortunate choice in aftershave.”</p>
<p>The comment shocked a full laugh out of Will and he brought his hand up to his face to cover his eyes. He also hated the aftershave, but he didn’t expect the comment. He decided to say as much.</p>
<p>“Mister Hannibal Lecter, you offend me greatly.” He placed a hand over his heart and gave him an exaggeratedly hurt look. “How will I ever go on now that I have been wounded in such a way?” Hannibal laughed and shook his head gently.</p>
<p>“I am terribly sorry, dear Will,” he joked, though the words resounded in his skull. Dear Will, dear Will, dear Will. Hannibal opened his mouth to continue, but was interrupted.</p>
<p>“Doctor Lecter, I overheard your name and decided to come check on you. How did you like the opera? I thought it was absolutely phenomenal. And what are the odds of us seeing the same opera three times in a row? How funny is that?”</p>
<p>The shorter man was looking at Hannibal almost fanatically and Will found himself hoping that he never appeared like that himself. He looked at Hannibal like he’d hung the stars in the sky and while Will agreed with the sentiment, he didn’t like the way he’d cut off their conversation and unsubtly corrected Will on the other man’s title. Judging by Hannibal’s expression and the way his previously relaxed body had stiffened up, Will suspected he was not alone in his frustration. Will caught Hannibal’s eye and raised an eyebrow at the man who sighed almost imperceptibly in response.</p>
<p>“Hello Franklyn. It is indeed an odd coincidence. What can I help you with?”</p>
<p>Franklyn didn’t seem to notice the way Hannibal was nearly glaring at him and started to ramble about his thoughts and opinions on the performance, detailing the events as though they hadn’t all watched it together. After several minutes of this with neither Will nor Hannibal being given a chance to speak and with Franklyn himself barely taking a breath, Hannibal interrupted him in return.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry to interrupt, Franklyn,” he didn’t sound sorry at all, “but I’m afraid Mr. Graham and I were just preparing to leave. We both have to get up very early tomorrow. If you’ll forgive us, we must be on our way.”</p>
<p>Then, to the surprise of both Franklyn and Will, Hannibal stepped forward and placed his hand gently on the small of Will’s back and applied light pressure, leading him towards the entrance. As they walked, he leaned his head close to Will’s ear and spoke, breath ghosting against his ear and making him shiver.</p>
<p>“We must make a swift exit or we’ll never be free again.” Will huffed a laugh, his body on fire where Hannibal touched him.</p>
<p>Hannibal left him at the doors and quickly went to retrieve their coats. Once he was gone, Franklyn approached him again and he sighed internally.</p>
<p>“What are you doing here with Doctor Lecter,” he demanded, standing a little too close to him. “He is a doctor, you know. Not just some guy.”</p>
<p>At his proximity, Will caught the fabricated scents of orange and pine and felt himself filled with rage. Who is this man and how dare he try to lay claim over his artist? And to try and throw Will under the bus while he was at it? Will straightened his posture and looked down at the man, letting a hint of his true self slip through. Franklyn must have sensed the danger and took a step back.</p>
<p>“I think you’ll find it’s none of your business what I do with Doctor Lecter,” he answered. </p>
<p>Franklyn gulped and looked like he wanted to argue, but thought better of it and turned away, walking back off into the crowd. A moment later, Hannibal returned wearing his own coat and held Will’s peacoat up for him to slide his arms into. When he turned around, Hannibal straightened the lapels, warmth ghosting over Will’s chest at the touch.</p>
<p>“I think the danger has been averted,” Will joked, nodding at Franklyn’s retreating form. Hannibal followed his gaze and nodded before leaning in conspiratorially.</p>
<p>“We should still flee in order to be completely safe,” he murmured and stepped forward to hold the door open with now gloved hands. Will smiled and stepped through into the night, regretful that it was coming to an end.</p>
<p>Together they walked in silence to the bottom of the stairs and stood, watching the snow fall to the already blanketed streets. He watched the white flakes drift to the ground, his heightened vision able to see the crystal shapes and patterns of each one. It was truly a mesmerizing sight, no matter how many times he’d seen it over the centuries. It was one of his reasons for staying north. It also made it easier to explain his fairly cool skin.</p>
<p>After a moment, he turned to Hannibal, wondering if he was also taking in the beauty of the night. Instead he found him staring back at him, expression full but unreadable, even to Will. Hannibal took a step closer to him, mere inches apart. His heat warmed the front of his body suddenly and he shivered at the sensation.</p>
<p>“You must be cold,” he said, mistaking Will’s shiver. He nodded anyway, overwhelmed by their proximity.</p>
<p>Hannibal then pulled a thin maroon scarf out of his coat pocket and raised it over Will’s head, wrapping it securely around his neck and tucking the ends into his coat. As he fixed it, his gloved hands slid against his neck and his jaw, making him suck in a breath. Hannibal looked into his eyes for a moment before dropping down to his lips. Will parted them in invitation and tilted his head up, suddenly desperate to feel Hannibal’s bare skin touch him again, even just once more. Hannibal hummed softly and grabbed Will’s lapels, pulling him closer, his breath ghosting over his lips.</p>
<p>“Where did you come from,” Hannibal asked softly.</p>
<p>It took Will a moment to comprehend the words. When he did, he chuckled softly and moved to Hannibal’s ear, determined to shake him the way he was rattled and to leave a lasting impression. He reached a hand up and gently cupped the other side of his face, relishing the feeling of smooth skin, the tips of his fingers just brushing the ends of silky smooth hair.</p>
<p>“Keep being so sweet on me and you might find out.”</p>
<p>With that, Will stepped away completely and grinned internally at Hannibal’s blown pupils and quickened breath. He reached up and adjusted the scarf around his neck, pulling it even tighter. He wanted nothing more than to go home with his artist and feel his hands over every inch of his body, but he feared Hannibal would lose interest in him too quickly if he did so.</p>
<p>“It was a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Lecter,” he said earnestly with another step back, loath to depart but certain he needed to maintain an air of secrecy.</p>
<p>“The pleasure was all mine, Mr. Graham. Will I be seeing you at the next opera?”</p>
<p>Will took in Hannibal’s face once more, memorizing every detail, before turning away and calling “Maybe,” over his shoulder with a smirk. His heart pounded when he heard an amused answer too quiet for human ears.</p>
<p>“Rude, dear Will. Terribly rude.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I am really proud of this chapter. I hope you all liked it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A quick glimpse at Hannibal's perspective and a digital conversation.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is a little shorter, but I wanted to get something out and I also liked where it ended. No clue where this is going, but we sure are going!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hannibal stood at the steps of the Opera House, snow falling all around him and covering everything in sight. While the scene was one of immense beauty, he found himself unable to fully enjoy it as his attention was drawn elsewhere.</p>
<p>Instead of taking in the landscape, he couldn’t help but watch that strange, ethereal man walk off into the darkness. He had been drawn to the boy as soon as he’d noticed him from across the lounge. He’d had the most glorious eyes Hannibal ever seen; a roiling ocean beneath swirling storm clouds. They held a certain familiarity within them, as well as a hidden darkness. Hannibal was drawn in instantly.</p>
<p>He had heard several people remark on Will Graham throughout the night, discussing his attire in varying degrees of disdain, admiration, and lust. He’d heard more than a few patrons go on at length about this mysterious man’s incredible beauty. He’d also heard that the man was completely unresponsive to all attempts at conversation and courting alike. It had intrigued him even more, the mystery of this man. He’d planned to break away from his companions and to introduce himself, but the performance had been due to start and he’d reluctantly let it be.</p>
<p>He had hoped to run into him during the intermission, but saw no sight of that deep blue suit and returned to the performance slightly disappointed.</p>
<p>After the opera, he’d seen Will slowly making his way to the exit, appearing lost in thought. He’d taken the opportunity and quickly went to greet him, politely dismissing several attempts by other patrons to engross him in conversation.</p>
<p>When he’d finally managed to speak to the man, every word out of his luscious mouth had pulled Hannibal in more. He’d been delightfully surprised by his wit and teasing nature. He clearly wasn’t the type for the Opera but he was certainly enticing in his own way. Hannibal decided almost immediately to flirt with this delightful curiosity. He’d felt surprisingly comfortable around him and was very curious to know more about who he was. He certainly wouldn’t be remiss to find him in his bed either. Seducing the boy seemed like a fairly easy plan and Will had looked at him with clear infatuation. The fisherman seemed himself to be an easy catch.</p>
<p>When Franklyn had forced his unfortunate presence on them, Hannibal seized the opportunity for the escape it was and had left to retrieve their coats, pleased with the noticeable reaction his touch caused. It was then that he’d decided to slip a note with his personal phone number into the pocket of Will’s peacoat, as well as a short message, hoping to set his plan in motion. However, as he was returning, he had caught a glimpse of that darkness he had noticed that drew him in in the first place. This Will seemed to tower over Franklyn and there was a dangerous aura pouring from the man. Even Franklyn, oblivious as he usually was, seemed to catch on to that danger and fled with his tail between his legs. </p>
<p>Hannibal savored that anger and darkness for a moment longer before approaching the younger man. He’d been even more surprised at how quickly and effectively he was able to hide that darkness away again, though his trained eye was still able to see it lurking. The two left the building and Hannibal was prepared to take Will home to his bed, and allowed a burning question to leave his lips.</p>
<p>“Where did you come from?”</p>
<p>Will surprised him once again by dodging the question in the most enticing of ways and then slipped away. Hannibal had shaken his head and couldn’t even find it in himself to be irritated by the rude evasion. There was something about this man that drew him in more than anyone else he’d ever met, and that was saying quite a bit.</p>
<p>So now he stood watching this boy who was more beautiful than even the snow falling around them walk away into the night with no way of knowing where he’d come from or if he would be seeing him again any time soon, if at all. He found himself desperately hoping this would not be the last he saw of Will Graham.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Will made it as far as his porch before collapsing against the wood. He was completely overwhelmed. It had taken every ounce of his strength to walk away from his Hannibal. He wanted him so bad and he could see in his eyes that Hannibal wanted him back. All at once, every single touch of his artist’s hands on him burned in his memory and he could feel his soft hands all over his body.</p>
<p>“Fuck,” he growled and laid down on the porch, shoved his hand in his pants, and grabbed hold of his aching erection. He groaned at the touch. Unwilling to let himself go, he used his free hand to unbutton his pants, the cold air brushing against him making him hiss. He shuddered and spit into his palm before grabbing his cock again and stroking desperately, twisting on the upstroke. He clenched his free hand against his leg and imagined it was those soft locks he’d barely brushed that his hand was buried in. He imagined a burning heat enveloping him and thrust his hips up, Hannibal’s name falling from his lips.</p>
<p>He thought he’d lusted for him before tonight, but this was a whole new monster, even more. He wanted, <i>god how he wanted</i>. He sucked two fingers into his mouth and reached down to shove them into himself, giving himself no time to get used to the stretch. The breach burned, but it only made him more desperate. He thrusted down against his fingers and imagined they were his artist’s smooth fingers inside of him while he swallowed him down. </p>
<p>“H-Hannibal...Hannibal...fuck me. <i>Hurt me!</i> Ahh,” he groaned out, frustrated that it wasn’t enough. He needed him. He needed him so badly. Suddenly he remembered the cooler he’d seen in that alleyway all those months ago and thought about those sharp teeth he’d gotten a few glimpses of.</p>
<p>A scream left his lips as he dug his nails into his cock and imagined a bloody grin, the sharp scent of blood filling his nose. With a few more wet strokes and hard thrusts of his fingers, he was coming with another cry, spilling over his hand and into the gouges on his cock which stung as he slammed his head back against the wood.</p>
<p>As his wounds healed and the air cooled the sweat, blood, and come on his body, Will laid spread out on the porch and found himself longing even harder for his artist. A sudden harsh bark sounding through the night tore him from haze, however, and he pushed himself up and let his dogs run out of the house, pushing them away gently so he could go inside and wash his hands before returning and giving them all ruffles of affection. After they all got to stretch their legs and empty their bladders, Will herded them inside and made to try and relax.</p>
<p>When he went to empty his pockets, however, he felt a slip of paper and pulled it out curiously. As he realized what it was, he inhaled deeply and gripped the paper tightly before running to his desk to lay it down and smooth out the wrinkles he’d caused. From the desk, the elegantly scrawled words seemed to scream at him.</p>
<p>
  <i>You are a delightful mystery, dear Will, and I would love to unravel you.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Hannibal</i>
</p>
<p>Beneath that was a phone number.</p>
<p>Will braced himself on his hands and let his head hang between his arms. After a few deep breaths, a laugh bubbled up and fell from his lips. A few of the dogs turned to him in surprise at the sound, but quickly ignored him. With a sigh, he lifted his hands and scrubbed them over his face. He stared at the note for several more moments, brushing a finger lightly over the words “dear Will”. Finally turning away from the note, he went and sat on his couch and looked out over his home.</p>
<p>“What is happening to me?” He asked the air. He got a few snuffles and a short bark in answer. He smiled briefly at the sound. He loved his dogs. In his many years, he had always found dogs to be the purest and truest of companions. The most loyal and honest. He always made sure to surround himself with them as they kept him going, even when his endless future seemed less than ideal. It was a shame they didn’t hold all the answers to life.</p>
<p>He truly was confused by what was happening to him lately. His every thought was consumed with that man. His artist. He felt like he was being consumed. Not only was his life being taken over by this obsession, he also didn’t even know what he hoped to get out of it. He knew he wanted Hannibal sexually, but to what end? He thought he’d been content to simply watch and imagine, but now that he’d had the force of his magnetism focused on him directly, he no longer felt like he could stay away. He hadn’t been in a relationship in a very long time. Decades, in fact. He couldn’t remember ever having fallen in love.</p>
<p>Was that what this was? He didn’t think so. Not yet, at least. So what was it? It was more than lust. He could have anyone he wanted and, based on tonight, could most likely have Hannibal as well. So it wasn’t that. It wasn’t loneliness. He’d spent centuries alone and was content to be so.</p>
<p>
  <i>Was he though?</i>
</p>
<p>He had never had anyone that could truly see him. He’d had fun and enjoyed the company of others on occasion, but he had never truly felt seen. His soul, assuming he had one, remained hidden inside his chest and not one person had even come close to recognizing what lay inside, no matter how hard he’d tried to show them.</p>
<p>But this man. His artist had a soul that reflected his own. Will saw the same darkness he felt consumed by in that man. For the first time in his very, very long life, he felt unnervingly perceived. He wanted to bask in that knowledge, to wrap himself up in the feeling of contentedness and affirmation. He wanted to worship in awe at the feet of the one person who could truly know him. And he wanted to see him in return.</p>
<p>With a final determined nod, Will pushed himself off the couch and made for the note, phone in hand. He paused while entering the contact information and decided on a name that amused him while still feeling completely accurate.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><b>12:11pm:</b><br/>
do u make it a habit of giving ur phone number out at operas?</p>
<p><b>12:15pm: Devourer of Man</b><br/>
On the contrary. I typically only give my personal contact information to close acquaintances.</p>
<p><b>12:17pm:</b><br/>
so ur saying im special</p>
<p><b>12:17pm: Devourer of Man</b><br/>
Perhaps.</p>
<p><b>12:18pm:</b><br/>
its ok u can say it</p>
<p><b>12:19pm:  Devourer of Man</b><br/>
I’m currently beginning to regret my decision due to your apparent dislike of punctuation.</p>
<p><b>12:23pm:</b><br/>
It’s okay. You can say it.</p>
<p><b>12:23pm: Devourer of Man</b><br/>
:)</p>
<p><b>12:23pm:</b><br/>
Did you just emote???</p>
<p><b>12:24pm: Devourer of Man</b><br/>
Absolutely not.</p>
<p><b>12:25pm:</b><br/>
Of course not. So what did you hope to get out of texting me, apart from judging my grammar?</p>
<p><b>12:27pm: Devourer of Man</b><br/>
I obviously did not give my information out for such a reason. How could I have known you’d be so abysmal at the written word?</p>
<p><b>12:28pm: Devourer of Man</b><br/>
I believe I gave you a hint of my interest in my note.</p>
<p><b>12:28pm: Devourer of Man</b><br/>
I find myself to be unusually enamored by you.</p>
<p>Will inhaled sharply as the messages came through quickly. He didn’t know what he was expecting from the late night conversation, but such blunt honesty was not it.</p>
<p><b>12:31pm:</b><br/>
You must be pretty lonely to be caught up in thoughts of an uncultured fisherman.</p>
<p><b>12:33pm: Devourer of Man</b><br/>
On the contrary. I have a sizable social circle and have no trouble acquiring companionship.</p>
<p><b>12:34pm:</b><br/>
That’s not the same as being seen.</p>
<p><b>12:34pm: Devourer of Man</b><br/>
Indeed. It is not.</p>
<p>For several long minutes, Will didn’t receive a response. He waited a bit longer and then decided Hannibal had either gotten bored of him or had gone to bed. Both scenarios made a lump form in his throat that he didn’t want to think about, so he stood up and made to go to his lures to pass the time when he heard the vibration of his phone. He dove for the device and ignored the startled sounds of his furry companions as he read the words on the screen several times over.</p>
<p><b>12:53pm: Devourer of Man</b><br/>
Do you see me, Will?</p>
<p><b>12:57pm:</b><br/>
I would like to.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I wanna thank everyone that's been reading and interacting. It truly means the world to me. I love you all and I hope I don't let you down!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! Comments are my life force! Find me on twitter at charliemorc if you need to yell at me &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>